Melesse
by sesamisen
Summary: Yave lost everything, but her freedom. She hides something, her companions can tell, but Yave starts breaking. Soon they will know. Legolas x OC, 10th traveler
1. Chapter 1

She knew something was about to happen. Everything was quiet, almost too quiet. It all seemed still, as if frozen in time. Except for the golden and auburn leaves, they said otherwise as they effortlessly left the too familiar twigs, only to slowly dance in the wind. Those leaves and her moving chest reminded her that things happened. Things moved.

She was alone, sitting on a stone bench, a place people, or better said elves, called Rivendell. She respected elves as she respected the order of nature. As all her people did. Her _dead_ people. She wouldn't think of it, she wouldn't. But remembering her parents' laughs and shining eyes made her eyes grow painfully wet with tears. They were dead, as dead as they could be.

They were still, frozen in time. But things moved, right?

She forbade herself to think of them and of the recent turn of events. They had been careful, it shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't have, but it happened none the less.

And she was hurt, her stomach felt empty, even though the elves kindly invited her to eat. She was cold, hurt and most of all alone… on a bench, watching the leaves flow, reminding her that her time was not frozen yet. Her heart was unfortunately still beating. _Her chest moving._

"My lady." The smooth voice startled her, making her sit straight up from the hard stone bench. As she turned around, the appearance of a tall, black-haired elf smiled at her shyly. "I apologize for startling you." He made a step forward, walking silently. She couldn't hear it. "My lady is invited by our kind Lord Elrond to a meeting he now has."

She was eager to go, see some living creatures, hear their voices, and forget the silent ones. In the same time, she wanted to be alone, to mourn over her loved ones, to remember as much as she could of their faces, kind words and warm voices. She wanted to keep everything alive in her mind, to always have them with her.

But they were dead. She was alive and she would never see them again.

 _Burned. They burned._

"My lady." The elf insisted when he understood that her thoughts drifted to darker and colder places. "Will you please follow me?" She wiped her wet cheeks with the long white sleeves of her simple white dress. More of a long piece of cloth really, but she liked it that way. They had tried to dress her in something else, most likely in expensive and delicate garments, in tight and appropriate dresses, but she refused those gifts. They were uncomfortable, right? And she wished to feel the wind embrace her, the rain touching her skin. The cloth veiling her needed be something as light as a feather, as if didn't exist at all. The elves saw it as a bad thing, it seemed. _It didn't leave much to the imagination_ , she'd been told.

But who cared about imagination? _Who cares about garments? Who cares about such foolish, pointless things?_ she wandered. But she did it too in what seemed like a very long time ago, when it really had happened days before.

She glanced at him, eyes red, and he read the pain in them. He seemed to look right into her broken soul, discover her darkened heart and all of her secrets. Yave hated it, the _pitiful_ look, the _'I'm so sorry'_ s.

She slowly nodded, glancing once more to the far away woods, and into them she could almost see the meadow where she used to read, where her parents often found her late at night… she looked once more before turning her back to it, slowly moving in the elf's direction, up the two stairs and into the portico. The elf waited for her before silently following behind.

She didn't know where to go, but as there was no other way then straight ahead, she just walked. She didn't look up; she watched the stone tiles and her bare feet touching it. She couldn't feel the cold of the stone. She never wore shoes anyway. She enjoyed feeling the materials, understanding them, as they were the work of nature.

She loved nature. Her people loved nature. They were called _the melesse_ , the loved ones, but they were simply humans. They didn't have many years ahead, as elves did, they were not dwarves, as they didn't like living underground. They didn't live as men did in castles or villages. They thought of themselves as being one with the nature.

They loved and worshipped all elements of nature: air, water, earth and fire. When Eru acknowledged their love and faithfulness, he had the elements respond to the melesse. He made them vow to protect all his creation. In return, Eru responded their worship with a single phrase: _Let it grow inside you_. And they did, mostly to protect themselves from the horrible deeds of men. That is what it's told to the children, a _legend_ , something people could understand, and something that might not scare them to hide. But she always wandered, _how_ _come_ she was like that, and the others not. What was different?

"Yave" she heard her name spoken. It was Lord Elrond's voice; she recognized it, the kindness that rested in it… almost like her father's. She remembered it, the way her father had called her name so many times – the same way. But she would never hear that voice again, because he was dead, _burned_. "Daughter, look at me." But she didn't dare, she would surely cry. She would cry for wanting so badly for her dad to be the one talking to her and seeing other man in his place.

But she had to be brave. She knew that opposed to how freely her people talked between one another, all these people were not hers. They believed in different approaches, their respect was shown in different ways. For one, she should not ignore a lord while being addressed to.

She looked up, in front of her stood Lord Elrond, how she knew she would. But she didn't cry… yet. She held the tears somewhere deep into her heart and tried to think of other things.

He smiled at her, a true, honest and damned _pitiful_ smile. He nodded towards her, turned slightly to his left and gestured for her to look behind him. And she did. Yave encountered many different pairs of eyes watching her: men, an elf, a dwarf and children... and a grey clothed old man. Their gazes locked and Yave's heart skipped a beat. _He must be one of the…_

They were watching her eyes, analyzing her.

"Dear fellowship, meet Yave." Lord Elrond said, taking a few steps towards what seemed to be his place around a small stone table. "Yave is, how you must have figured out, one of the melesse." There were a few loud gasps, probably from uncertain figures. "I believe that she should be part of the Fellowship."

"What?" Yave said out of a sudden, not being able to control her confusion. She later regretted her outburst as she believed they would find it inappropriate. "I apologize, lord Elrond. "

"There's no need. You must be confused." She nodded slowly. He gestured with his chin towards the stone table in front of them. "Do you know that ring, Yave?" She looked at it, tried to find some details that might tell her what it was, so she wouldn't seem ignorant, but in the end she had to shake her head. "It needs to be burnt."

At the word _burnt_ , Yave's eyes finally gave in. Her body shuddered violently and her vision blurred. "Burnt?" she asked with a trembling voice. She lifted her hands, placing her palms to her face so her tears couldn't be seen and her weakness acknowledged.

"My lord Elrond, I don't think she is prepared for such a journey…" she heard a man speak, but didn't dare look.

"Aragorn, don't underestimate someone's force by how sensitive said person is in a moment in time." Yave heard the lord say. Then he addressed her. "Yave, do not let sorrow control your strength. There is fire burning deep inside you." Yave let her hands fall to her side and raised her face to look straight into Lord Elrond's eyes. Hers were red, but his were blue like the clear sky. A tint of confidence tainted them.

"W-what… journey should I take?" her voice started as a low tremble, but then Yave found the power to speak clearly.

"This rings needs to be thrown deep into the fires of Mount Doom." Yave's eyes widened at the mention. Her eyes searched the golden ring, stared at it, watched for some sign of darkness… but she couldn't find any. It looked as any other golden ring, simple, untouched. Mount Doom was not something that could have been blurted randomly amongst her people.

"This is the ring of Sauron." The silence that followed her affirmation was an approval she didn't want. From how calm she was before, her inside fire burned so powerfully that it exploded and bursted out.

She turned to face their precious lord Elrond ignoring everyone's stares. "You want _me_ to travel to Mount Doom and help see the end of this ring." He nodded. "You want _me_ to get involved and fight a war that is not mine and die for a purpose I do _not_ believe in." Lord Elrond's eyes narrowed at her words, concern flooding his eyes. Yave's unshed tears stung her eyes.

"Yave, you cannot remain here." Lord Elrond said after a moment of silence. Wind blew around them, it embraced Yave in a tickly touch, making her limbs tremble. Pained blood-shot eyes searched around them in an attempt to find a support, in someone or something, a voice to raise from the ground and say _she can't go!_ , but it didn't happen. Many pair of eyes watched her, some curiously, some pitifully. When she met a certain pair of grey eyes, time seemed to finally stop for her too. Despite the pity looks she received from every present man, those eyes looked at her differently, as if they understood her loneliness. _Who is he?_ She wondered. But the moment disappeared; time went back on track. Elrond spoke. "We can not give you the training you need, child." He gestured towards the old man. "Gandalf can. He can teach you how to control things that now seem uncontrollable."

"My lord, you know I should _not_ die." Her voice trembled thinking again of the horrible picture of her people slaughtered, their blood spilled on the once emerald grass, their guts cut open and their insides hanging from their soiled clothes. The darkness embracing them and screams of pain, of torture, of mercy… that was all Yave could remember to had happened that night. Her throat felt dry, but she tried to speak. "I _have_ to live." It came out as a whisper, one with the wind. Except for the two elves, no one else managed to hear her. It was a confession, a need. She could hear _her_ voice screaming, flooding her ears like waves breaking against stones during hurricanes _'Do it! Live, Yave, my child. You have to do it, there is no other way.'_

Elrond got up from his sit on the stone chair, he approached Yave slowly, before raising his cold white hand to her sun tainted cheek. "I know. You will live." the emptiness inside her scared and terrified Yave. "I know Aragorn is going to protect you. I trust it on him." Aragorn, the man that didn't want Yave to join the fellowship? She looked over to him, a black haired man, in his forties or _older_. His face was serious, he looked as if he had defeated a lot of darkness, he looked as if he could be trusted. He _looked_.

"And how will he protect me from _him_?" she referred to Sauron, the most powerful dark lord of over 3 thousand years or more. How could a simple man, with a simple sword, how could this Aragorn ever even think of being able to protect her, probably the last of the melesse, the ones Sauron desired more than anything to destroy? How could he? How could _any_ of them?

"Yave" the voice of the old man named Gandalf startled Yave, interrupting her thoughts. It was calm, as a father's, concerned and protective. "We will _all_ protect you." Then he smiled at her and in that smile rested peace and love, something that made her heart flutter, it was something that she had missed… the warmth of the smile her father gave her many times. All Yave could do was reticently smile in return.

"I thank you, my lord, for the kind intentions you have. But still… how could you protect me from him?" An army of more than a thousand elves fought against Sauron and were almost defeated. What could this… fellowship… do to help her?

Sauron was her worst nightmares. Yave was terrified of his _name_ , let alone his armies, power, and the eye… oh dear Eru, that eye… it made her whole body tremble with a coldness she had never felt.

"With a little faith, my dear." Gandalf said. And so, it was all settled.

.

.

.

In the tall hall Aragorn, Yave and the old man Gandalf quickly followed behind lord Elrond. She didn't know where or why, but wasn't really interested in finding out anyway. She had had enough of the talking, planning, and deciding. She wanted nothing more but to wander free into the great town of Rivendell, around the nearby wood, into the streaming rivers.

How could you not stop to admire it, to appreciate the beauty of things made with Eru's love and materials? The hall was lovely, the white stone shone under the golden light of the twilight sun. She approached a column and touched the warm rock, white skin touched white and she could feel the pads of her fingers meet the rough and unfinished stone. Her eyes ripped almost painfully from the extraordinary encounter and turned disappointingly to the sudden noise.

"My lord" Yave heard Aragorn's voice break through the peaceful silence. "I know what your wish is, but I do not believe lady Yave does." She rolled her eyes at the honorific. Why would they believe that the melesse had such meaningless hierarchies, some bowing and others looking down at them? They did not, they _would_ not! And what _wish_ was this man talking of?

Elrond stopped in his pace and turned around, first looking at the men and then eyeing Yave. He let go of a long held sigh. "You _will_ follow Aragorn and you will live by _his_ side in Gondor once the ring matter is done with." He pointed some of the words, trying to make the young woman understand, but Yave was too young and naive.

"Forgive me, my lord, but I can not seem to understand." Weren't they all supposed to protect her? The brunette lord kept looking at her, waiting. The others didn't make a noise.

Crimson eyes turned to her left were her shoulder almost touched Aragorn's, and so she was reminded to keep away from him. She didn't like being touched. One step to her right and she almost bumped into Gandalf. She saw them both keeping their eyes to the floor beneath them, head slightly bowed.

To say that Yave's eyes widened in shock the moment she realized the meaning of the words would not actually describe how wide her eyes opened. _He wants me to… marry this man?_ A man she didn't know, a man much older than she was, a man she didn't care for.

She would _not_ do as he wished. She had her free will, she could choose. She was Yave of the melesse, she was as free as a bird of the sky. She _had_ Eru's blessing to do as she wished, after all! She would _not_ succumb to this irritating elf's wish! He could not tell her how to live her life, he had no right whatsoever.

"No." was all she said though. She looked with irritation in his grey eyes. Damned be the rules, what was appropriate and what not. She couldn't care less right then.

"No?" lord Elrond repeated. "Whoever told you, _Yave_ ¸ you have a choice?" Her eyes narrowed. "Both of you will do as I say, that is final. Or do you wish for everyone to know what happened several days ago and how come you are still here?" He searched for her eyes. Yave's eyes changed from furious to afraid. The lord touched a sensitive spot for her. How could a man turn from a father's figure to this? To a ruler, commanding around as though she was his slave and he could do as he wished. "I am glad we have come to a conclusion that will benefit us all. Have a nice day, you are leaving tomorrow."

Benefit all of them? No, he was the only one benefiting from all of this. Of course, all these centuries after, and the lords of elves were the only ones benefiting from others' lives. Yave was disgusted, upset and furious. And why should she accept this? Why did it matter if everyone found out, she couldn't care less. Right?

"My lady" the man called Aragorn whispered watching the change of emotions on her face occur. "We will find a way to live with lord Elrond's decision." She turned her gaze from the elf's retreating back to the tall man next to her.

"When will that be, in or out of our future sleeping chamber?" She decided then that she was going to hate this man, more than anything in the world, the man who would take her innocence and freedom from her.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Yave thought she could rest once her head met the softness of the pillow, but she was terribly wrong. Sleep wouldn't take her, no matter how much she stayed, face up to the grey vaulted ceiling, eyes closed. Her mind restlessly wandered. Yave thought of the grey eyes she saw at the meeting, everything before that dissolved in a black mist as if it didn't even happen. Only the grey eyes stayed with her all day long and now, all night.

She couldn't comprehend why.

She knew he was an elf, a striking one, but they all were. She hated not knowing every single man from there. The fellowship of the ring, they called themselves. She was supposed to be a member.

She sighed and gave up the idea of sleeping. Instead, she sat up from the bed, slowly moving the soft sheets aside and stepping on the floor. For someone who was used to living in the nature, in forest, walking every day on untouched earth, those stone tiles were really hurting her feet.

But Yave didn't have any shoes to cover her wounded and trembling feet, and she also made the mistake of politely declining the ones offered by the elves.

She wanted to take a walk, let herself be embraced in the chill air of the night, see the shining moon and walk through the forest. She wanted to experience something familiar, something from a long and lost time in the past.

Even if the pain was more present than ever.

.

Outside the walls of the castle, everything was dark.

She walked the path into the nearby forest, her bare feet leaving the rough stone tiles and touching the most familiar earth. It wasn't cold, not for her, as she was made of hotness and fire, as her parents used to tell her. The night was silent, the only noise heard was the sound of her stepping on the forgotten lifeless leaves.

Walking for some time, she reached the soft racing of water, it came from a river, which she didn't know the name of. But its flow brought her comfort in that deadly silence. And once her feet touched the river bank, her knees gave in the burden her soul carried. Her long auburn hair danced around her head in the rhythm of wind. Her palms steadied her body, buried into the moistened ground.

She couldn't do it anymore. She was once strong, confident. She used to long for adventure, she had dreamt of riding horses, meeting elves and dwarves; escape the boring routine that her people had, because rarely something ever happened in the small camp of the melesse. It happened; she was now free to explore the whole world. Because everything she knew was gone and she regretted not treasuring it more. It pained her.

The first tears escaped Yave's red eyes unnoticed; afterwards she gave in their persistent will. And she cried. She cried for her parents, for her brother, for the small farm they treasured more than anything; she mourned the life she'd lived. Was she even alive now? Only because her lungs filled with air and her heart pumped blood in her veins, was she alive? Yave felt like a living corpse, walking around, feeding and breathing, but her insides were dead. Her heart was broken in thousands of pieces, impossible to put back in place.

When she heard steps behind her, she turned around, still on her knees. She saw an elf, the grey eyed one that she had seen at the meeting, standing under a tree a dozen feet away. Yave knew her face must have been disgustingly wet with tears and her eyes even more red from crying, if that was possible. She knew she must have looked pitiful like that, on her knees, broken, weak, feeling sorry for herself, but even so, she couldn't find the strength to at least pretend to be fine. She couldn't _behave_.

She tried to stop the tears and brought her dirty right hand to wipe her cheeks, but her eyes burnt with tears that didn't fall yet. She had to cry, she needed to.

His steps sounded louder when he approached her. Then, when he sat next to her, she felt embarrassed. She looked in his direction, over her left shoulder, and he was eyeing her, a piercing stare right through her flesh and to her bones. It was a stare she couldn't hold, not right then.

Yave let her gaze turn to the ground in front of her, keeping her head bowed in a failed attempt to hide her face – the proof of her weakness. "My apologies" she started speaking with a trembling voice. "I believe this to be a very inappropriate way of greeting you, my Lord."

"Would you have me leave then, lady Yave?" She wanted to say yes. But she knew it to be a lie. She was ashamed of herself, but she couldn't handle the loneliness. She needed someone to know.

She shook her head, her hair moving around her face, sticking to her wet cheeks.

"For what it matters, I think you are very strong." His voice caressed her, it touched her freezing heart with warmth, like a fire burning in the stove in the middle of winter.

"My lord is saying that as I am crying my heart out in front of you." Yave let a harsh giggle escape her lips.

"You survived something that many people could not even dream of surviving, Yave." She didn't even know his name.

"I would rather not have." Yave smiled, a bittersweet smile, and her eyes grew watery once more thinking of the smell of burnt flesh. "I would rather have died with them." Yave closed her eyes forcing her tears back. A warm hand captured her chin slowly turning her head in his direction. She was shocked, but found comfort in the warmth of his touch and she opened her eyes. Scarlet met grey. And while her eyes were filled with pain, his were filled with understanding.

"Don't long for death when it has yet to come for you." His lips moved slowly, and the sound of his voice soothed her aching heart. "You survived to live. Live." The elf moved his hand to her side and opened his palm to cover Yave's right cheek. _You are not alone._ That's what he meant to say and that's what she felt for the first time in days. He continued. "No one expects you to be strong now."

She rested her cheek in his palm feeling the smooth warm skin. She lifted her right dirty hand and placed it on top of his.

Contrary the expectation, Yave felt an extremely intimate gesture in her action. It reminded her of the times her mother would encourage her to fight when times were hard. But the person she was clinging to was not her mother, not a relative, not a friend. He was a complete stranger, who knew nothing of how she felt and would surely laugh at her foolishness.

Her palm grasped almost brutally his hand and yanked it away from her face. _I am such a fool._ Tears blinded her, but she wanted to get as far away from him as she could. _Away from the shame._ She got on her trembling feet, trying to walk slowly. But her legs were numb from siting on them too long. Yave almost fell to the ground, but was able to steady herself instead. She would have made a fool of herself once more. She heard him get up too, but tried to ignore the sound of his steps on the grass behind her as she started walking.

He didn't let her get too far before catching Yave from behind by grasping her hand. "My lady…" he started. Her hand was extremely warm which concerned the elf. The night was very cold, so she shouldn't be like that.

"I am no lady, my _Lord_." She yanked her hand free. Yave turned around so she could face him with angry spitting eyes. "I have no title so you don't need to pretend and be respectful towards me." Contrary to her expectations, he smirked.

"No?" he asked. "How do you know that _I_ have one? Are you just respectful towards me without knowing? Or are you perhaps… pretending?" Yave discovered then that perhaps he was not a lord like Aragorn or Elrond. There was no reason to hold grudge against him, right?

After all the anger left her, she sighed feeling ashamed of how she had

"Forgive me, -"she seemed unsure of how to call him.

"Legolas should do." He smiled to her, a genuine shy smile. It was so sincere that Yave felt her heart flatter. He was beautiful, his long white hair embracing his tall and slim body, covered in the moon light, and his grey eyes looking at her under long and white lashes. There were not white haired men amongst the melesse, she was sure. Either way, she wouldn't be feeling so foolish for openly admiring him.

"The same for me, Legolas. I am only Yave." She muttered after what seemed like a long time.

"So be it." For the first time that night, she smiled. Legolas smiled in return and then briefly glanced at her. Her nightgown was ruined, surely. Under her tights, it turned from white to brown from when she sat on the wet earth. In the night light, he could see the skinny body underneath, the body of a girl, more than a woman.

Legolas felt ashamed to have even looked. How old was she anyway? 16?

Her eyes followed his gaze and then blushed in return. He was analyzing her. Was this normal for them?

He then talked. "Perhaps I should walk you back."

And they walked, at first talking about the castle, the chill night, their future journey. Afterwards, they grew silent, from time to time watching each other, confessing things that their mouths didn't dare speak.

And when they reached Yave's door, they wished each other a good night, but knowing damn well that they wouldn't be able to sleep for Yave dreamed with her eyes open at befriending the elf, while Legolas thought of her, how young she was, and how much she had suffered.

Sleep met them at dawn.


	2. Chapter 2

The day to leave Rivendell and start on their journey finally came for the Fellowship of the Ring.

Yave woke up pretty early, for she had had a very troubled sleep. First of all, she was terrified of what was there to meet on their way to _certain_ death, or what was commonly known as _Mordor_. Secondly, as one of the Melesse, she was wise to fear the dark forces of the evil, for her people were the most endangered of all species created by Eru.

Thirdly, she had let someone in, a stranger with no ties to her whatsoever, a stranger who could laugh at her silliness behind her back any time and she wouldn't know. She had let the elf called Legolas know a bit of her tormented being. And she hoped she was not going to regret it.

She was bewildered to realize that the village was unusually silent this morning. Through the arcades, she looked all over the valley and to the dancing trees. Wind was blowing all over them, caressing their leaves. That and the waterfall were the only ones making noise. Was it so early that no one was up yet? Or were they already mourning for the lives they might lose for the greater good?

Yave chuckled at the thought. There was no way any of those infuriating elves could feel bad for sending men to their deaths. They would stay at home in peace after all, _as usual_. The lords were relaxing under the safety of their guards and homes while normal people with no royal blood had to go and fight a war that was not theirs.

Yave sighed, she should seriously stop drowning in self-pity. She could do more than that. She was her mother's hope! She had to live and find protection. It was a _need_. Not because of what she wanted, but because of the plead that filled the room minutes before… _everything burnt._

She got up from her comfortable bedding and decided to wonder the halls when no one could bother her, when people could not watch her with hooded eyes and sadness tainting their lips. Her bare feet touched the stone in a silent step.

She turned towards the terrace and saw the raising trees outside starting to shade the floor. The sun welcomed them all in a golden embrace. Moving towards the wooden door, she opened it for a second and listened to the silence, before stepping into the now slowly lightened corridor.

The morning sun slithered through the slim pillars and arcades, and caressed the white stone in a yellowy and shy touch. Yave's bare feet touched the flooring silently as she walked. She didn't know where, but she was curious of what she might find, for Yave had to admit one thing: the elves villages were so extremely beautiful, a lot of light came in and nature surrounded them at all times. Birds would fly above their heads, butterflies could be found on the tiled floors. They, as the Melesse did, worshipped and respected Nature, compared to men and dwarves, who did nothing but build and burn and ruin.

But Imladris was fascinating, welcoming and free. She could have left at any time, she could wander around if she so pleased, and she could climb the trees and listen to the stones talk. This place gave her a sense of freedom she had missed.

After walking for some time, paying attention to the sun painted stone, from far ahead she heard a rustle of clothes. Curiosity filling her, she lowered her head and started walking even more silently, if it were possible. Turning around a corner, Yave gasped.

There they were, under Yave's prying eyes, his back tightly embraced by delicate pale arms. In the silent portico, only the sun as their witness, her soon to be husband was kissing the daughter of Lord Elrond, Arwen. Something snapped in Yave's brain; she now understood _why_ , why the lord was so final with his intentions, why he even thought of such a thing. Why he chose _her_ of everyone to do it. _Of course_ , of course the lord would do such a thing, always using his inferiors to do his dirty works, always letting others suffer for his plans.

Yave was disgusted beyond imagination. For a moment, for a single moment she wanted to believe that _he_ was different, that Elrond was actually worthy of appreciation as a ruler, for he had shown her a lot of sympathy. He helped her! And still, he was demanding of her to marry a man she did not know just because his daughter was infatuated with him! It was unbelievable.

Still watching the passionate exchange between the two, she couldn't help feeling disgusted. Her mother was right, her family was right, her _dead_ people were right.

Lords deserved everything but their allegiance.

When they stopped, Arwen slowly opened her eyes only to have them widen up when she turned her head in Yave's direction. Of course, her ears had been too occupied with listening to Aragorn's attentions rather than hear the frenetic heart a few feet away. Shock took place on Arwen's face, making Aragorn turn around.

Aragorn let a yelp leave his lips, "Lady Yave, -"

Yave disrespectfully interrupted him. "I am no lady." She straightforwardly stated, "He wants to get rid of _you_ , that _is_ why." For a moment, she wanted it to not be true; she wanted lord Elrond to prove her wrong. But Aragorn nodded silently.

The man clenched his teeth and sighed. She let her head fall as red hair covered her freckled face. But she couldn't keep the sour laughter escape her thin lips. Looking once more in their direction she seemed to suddenly understand his previous _kindness_.

"That is why!" Yave shouted surprised. "Why he came that morning at dawn!" She stepped forward, going down the three stone stairs that stood between the corridor and the portico. She was quite a scene. A brand new white nightgown embracing her young body, her straight long red hair all around her like a flame burning, her shoeless small feet touching the coarse stone, she looked wild, as a beautiful beast, _hunting_. "He thought of this all along." She stopped in front of them and turned her body towards the tall and beautiful she-elf, Arwen. "Isn't it so, my _lady_?" she asked angrily.

Arwen started shaking her head uncontrollably. "No, you are wrong, Yave. My father -" When her scarlet eyes filled with anger, Arwen stopped talking. For a moment her heart sank with guilt, for she was not sure how her father knew he would have found a girl alive that night.

"You cannot possibly believe that lord Elrond thought this through from the very beginning when _he_ was marching with an _army_ to your camp", said Aragorn shocked at what the girl's mind could come up with.

"As far as I can tell, he just _decided_ to arrive too _late_ ", she turned angrily towards him. Images of blood and flames flashed through her mind. Memories took control of her thoughts.

"Lady Yave", Aragorn started "Lord Elrond is a good person; he helped you because you were in need of it! Do not accuse him unknowingly, I will not permit it!"

"And what will you do, oh mighty future _King_?" she talked so fierce fully that almost spat in his direction. "I am not a mere mortal woman, do not act as such! I will not submit to you or any other of your kind."

"Lady -", for a moment, the heir of Isildur stopped himself looking into the girl's eyes. He could tell her eyes spoke of a treachery _herself_ didn't want to believe. She was distressed, she thought that she had been deceived and her trust betrayed. She wasn't unkind by any means, just hurt. Too hurt for even to comprehend. "Stop this nonsense, _Yave_ ", he said. "I will not have you put words into my mouth, especially words I would not think, let alone say!"

Yave seemed to calm down, because she couldn't find any right answer. Her arguments were not founded, but were merely based on a hatred nourished since she had been a child by her kin towards royalty.

She couldn't understand, she could _not_ see kindness anymore in lord Elrond's action, not because he gave her an obvious reason to, but because unconsciously she wanted to believe there was no kindness there. Her people _couldn't_ be wrong.

"Yave, stop being a child, I, no, _we_ , the fellowship, need you as mature as possible." Aragorn's voice sounded almost encouraging. But Yave only saw the offence.

"I am not a child! Do _not_ tell me I am! You did _not_ see what I had seen! You were not there."

"And _you_ did not see what _I_ had seen." Her brows frowned and her eyes filled with something Aragorn could not read. "Everyone suffers; people have their own demons tormenting them day by day… do not feed them with hatred and darkness."

Yave looked up at him and in an instant her face changed to one of a total disgust. "Did these demons kill their parents, siblings and friends in front of their own eyes?" Strider's eyes softened. "Did they?!"

"Not all of them, no."

"Then do _not_ dare associate me with people suffering from petty reasons!" She walked in front of him, until their chests almost touched. She looked up at him. "When you find someone that suffers the same as I do, let me know, will you?" It was a cold and cruel truth disguised as a begging whisper, but a bittersweet smirk had touched her lips, before she turned around and fled.

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Yave had her bag with a few clothes for change ready. Inside the bag, in a hidden pocket there was something people didn't know she had. Placing her hand inside it, she found the folded cloth. Unfolding it, she revealed a painting of her family she had done years before. It was a childish one, more of a mess of red color, but she remembered the day she had painted it, she remembered the laughs, the smiles, the love… and that was something she didn't want to forget. A gentle tear rolled down her right cheek before she hurriedly swiped it away.

She needed to go down into the yard in front of the main gate which had access to the village and meet her companions, which were already there or on their way. They were supposed to leave before noon. She didn't want to make a well-expected overly cried appearance.

She sighed and in the last moment, she took the folded cloth from the bag, and placed it inside the cloth covering her chest, nothing could happen to it there. She smiled, pated it safe for a moment, glanced around the familiar room and then went out the door and to the beginning of their adventure.

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She was nervous; she was going to see Legolas again. When she remembered how weak she must have looked like, embarrassment was mostly what she felt, but with a small tint of excitement. Seeing the elf again meant having to deal with the pity that surely possessed his eyes now, but it also meant feeling the support and understanding he had given her the previous night. Yave sighed. She didn't know or comprehend the mixed feelings she had going through her already too troubled heart. But she was decided on finding out.

What did it matter if all he felt was pity? Could it be worse than the pain she was already feeling, the images that wouldn't leave her eyes, the screams…? But in the same time, since that _day_ on she had never broken apart in front of anyone, except for him. A person she barely knew, an elf from faraway lands with hundreds of years before him. He must have seen many things during his life. Yave must have looked amusing to him.

She remembered the joy she had felt the night before on their walk outside the village, talking about the stars and the silent forest. Thinking back to it, her mind drifted to years back without even noticing it. For a moment, the image of dark scarlet leaves, framing the blue sky took root in her mind. A giggle filled the silence and when she eagerly turned towards it, the little red-haired boy opened his arms to her. Yave picked him up cuddled him to her chest, her eyes closed, letting herself drown in his presence. She could feel the warmth of his body, the musky smell he emanated and his giggles flooding her ears like a harmonious song of the rarest birds.

She found herself smiling, laughing with him, her body turned warm due to his embrace. She was happy. But it didn't last for long.

"Lady Yave", a hoarse voice made itself known to her laughter filled ears. The voice broke through the barrier like the stab of a knife in her chest. Yave stopped. The boy still held tight at her chest, she started waking up from the day-dream she had fallen into. But her eyes would not open, she would not lose this moment. She had been waiting for so long to see him again… she _would_ not lose him _again._ Yave wanted to cry and scream. She knew it… she knew what was about to happen. The voice tried again to get her attention, full aware that she was very far away. When her eyes finally opened, she looked down to her chest where the boy had been sitting. Right then, his body changed colors, from the pure white to the darkest grey and his body disappeared into a mass of well-known and unforgiving smoke. He was gone. _Dead._ "My lady."

Yave moved her gaze up. Gandalf was right in front of her, several feet away. The autumn trees turned from crimson and yellow to the obvious green. Yave could feel her heart clutching into itself in a very painful ache.

"Gandalf", she tried a respectful nod to which he responded with a warm smile. A fake one, Yave could tell. _Pity, again._ She sighed loudly and then moved aside.

They started gathering in the main court, in front of the counsel building. It was a beautiful day, some would say perfect for such an adventure. On the contrary, Yave didn't know what to think. There was no such thing as a perfect day in her life anymore.

What Yave was wearing was way manlier than everyone else wanted her to. Some elleths entered her chambers in the morning and offered different types of dresses from which she could choose. They were made from the finest wools ever encountered and lord Elrond was extremely generous in giving them to her, they said. Yave remained unimpressed though, no matter how hard they tried. She chose to wear a pair of brown leather loose pants that fell down to her ankles. A pair of black leather boots grasped at her feet and she cringed at the peculiar experience. The Melesse were not used to wearing garments on their feet, and if they did, they were very open, not so closed. But Yave couldn't know the places she was about to walk on and so decided that she could get rid of them later on.

Her chest was covered by a white loose garment, made of cotton. It was long to her upper thighs and had medium length sleeves. But even though it was not flattering, a brown corset embraced her chest in a too flattering way for her liking. The clothes she was wearing were comfortable and allowed her a lot of freedom of movement, compared to the dresses the elleths presented her. In the end, Yave was delighted by the result.

Her bag she gave to the sand-haired hobbit which was assigned the job of handling the donkey. And so she found out his name was Sam. After exchanging words of greeting, Sam told her of the Shire and what a gorgeous place it was.

"There is grass everywhere and flowers. I myself tend to Mr. Frodo's gardens. Plants are one of my passions." He giggled in an attempt to hide how much he was missing it. "After this mission is complete, we will take you there and show you. I bet you will grow fond of it in no time." He was a sweetheart, Yave discovered. True of heart and hardworking, Sam was unmistakably an honest friend.

"And then _I_ will take you to the deepest corners of the forests and show you places only the Melesse venture in" she spoke softly, trying to imagine what their home would look like for foreigners. "When we choose camps, we tend to get lost deep into the nature. We close our eyes and walk for hours, listening to the birds and rivers, and the soft swing of butterflies. Thus, we come across to spots none has seen before. Virgin woods and cold clear rivers, earth covered by dried leaves and animals as wild as beasts" Sam had his hazel eyes wide open, staring at her sparkling scarlet eyes as she spoke. "The first night we do not work on anything, but we circle a big fire and sing until dawn. Ale, bread and good stories are all we need to feel complete" she giggled. "The next day, we bless the land and start a new life there" she didn't realize that for the first time in days, she hadn't cried at the memory of her people. She smiled, with her uneven but beautiful teeth and the soft pink lips. Sam was amazed at what a true and beautiful smile took root on Yave's face. And he could only wonder what lives the Melesse had lived.

"Are all of you red-haired?" he asked all of a sudden, curiosity apparent on his childish face. Yave laughed.

"Not at all. Some of us are gingers, hair as orange as the rays of sun. Some have the golden hair of dandelions. But truth be told, there are not dark haired people amongst us."

"Why is that?" he suddenly asked, intrigued.

"The Melesse are very conservative people", a voice said from behind. It was Gandalf. He smirked and joined the conversation. "They keep to themselves", he added all-knowingly. Yave could only chuckle and nod.

"Yes, that is quite true. But some may argue that we actually do not fancy the company of strangers", she responded. Gandalf raised a thick and grey eyebrow, but his lips held the initial smile.

"I can see no reason why", but his reply was followed by a quick laughter. Yave couldn't know, but Gandalf felt a need to keep her safe. He loved children as if they were his own and he enjoyed their company. He was great at telling stories and he found himself an amusing old man. He would have been happy knowing that Yave found him protective and sweet. But it was obvious afterwards for the rest of the fellowship, that Yave would seek his company rather than others.

Even as the three of them continued talking about random things, like creatures neither she nor Samwise knew existed but might encounter on their journey, Yave would look around for Legolas, excited to see him. When in the end he made an appearance, the girl seemed to notice him for the first time. Yave didn't really pay much attention to him in the beginning, not as they walked or at the small council. Now, it was a different story. Her full attention was concentrated on him.

She knew the elves were known for their slim figures, but she did _not_ expect him to look fit. A green velvet tunic covered his chest down to mid-thigh in an almost tight embrace. Yave could clearly see his muscled body, his chest rising with each of his breathes in and out, through the green cloth. No matter how gentle his hands had been the other night, now they seemed harsh, big and strong. He was tall, incredibly tall, his hair so long that it almost reached his lower back. And it flowed behind him like a white and silver veil, thick and pure. And his eyebrows as white as his hair were almost unnoticeable on his porcelain pale face.

Legolas didn't notice her yet, his attention was given to others, and so she took the time to study him completely. She saw him smile only for short bits, never revealing his gorgeous white teeth she had seen the other night. He didn't seem to talk much, but was actually pretty reserved, only nodding shortly or greeting people with soft smiles. And when he turned to her, Yave could feel her heart clutch inside her chest. Legolas was a few feet away and so he let his gaze examine her before stopping on her face. A short and respectful nod, followed by the usual soft smile was all she got, before his attention moved elsewhere. But it was enough to make Yave smile even moments after. Her chest warmed with a feeling she did not understand, but she did know her face grew hot and cheeks turned red. Had she paid attention, she would have seen that both Gandalf and Sam followed her gaze and giggled to her new found interest. When she remembered to turn to them she found them both staring and smirking to her, but Yave tried to play innocent. "What?" she asked, but tried to keep her composure. They shrieked their shoulders before getting back to arranging the bags on top of the donkey.

What caught her attention once more was one particular encounter which was happening between Legolas and _Lord_ Elrond.

Firstly, the lord exchanged what seemed to be somewhat nice phrases with Aragorn, which she found odd since Aragorn was giving up the love of his life for an unknown _child,_ couldn't he be more… against it, like she was? Yave shook her head in annoyance. Afterwards, their goodbye was a respectful one, both of the parties bowing in a similar manner, as was expected of them. Aragorn was on a similar hierarchy level as lord Elrond, alright, Yave could understand that, her _betrothed_ being… well… a lost king or something. But when lord Elrond did the same with Legolas, she was caught off guard.

At first she panicked. But then, she remembered that on their night walk yesterday he asked her how she knew he was a lord and not a _regular_ person as she was. She assumed from his response that he wasn't royalty. So the exchange caught her off guard.

"These damned elves and all their rituals, kissing each other's arses gets on my nerves!" Gimli, the dwarf, whispered right behind her. The red haired turned slowly to the small man, just noticing he was there, but she took the chance.

"All of them depart this way?" she asked hoping for a positive answer.

"Yeah, wasting all our time. Let two dwarves say goodbye to each other and all they need are two wooden walnut steins of beer, laddie, perhaps I will show you once" he snorted. "But not the elves, no."

Yave smiled, not even paying attention to him anymore. So Legolas was not necessarily on the same rank as lord Elrond, they were purely the same race and that's all it took for such a goodbye. She breathed out in relief. If Yave hated anything, those were the lords of all kinds.

"Should we go then?" another tall men asked from somewhere near the gate. He must have been the tallest, second to Legolas, of course, with brown hair parted in the middle, dressed more nicely than the rest of them, seemed more… _prepared_ for what was about to happen. He was handsome and looked strong. Aragorn stepped next to him and nodded in his direction. They all grouped before the entrance in the yard.

Yave still didn't know the names of many of the fellowship. There were 2 other hobbits, pretty young in her opinion, the man in a hurry. Who were they and what brought them all together. Couldn't just one person take the responsibility and destroy that damned ring? Yave let go of a sigh. It was going to be a long journey. At least it wasn't necessary to live in a castle anymore, she could wonder around in the forests, through large grass, swim in the lakes; she could go back to the life she once had.

"Yave…" she heard her name softly whispered from next to her. She was so absorbed in the future temporary freedom waiting for her that she didn't hear lord Elrond approaching. "What I asked of the two of you needs to remain between Aragorn, Gandalf and you" His voice was firm, serious and didn't admit a contra argument.

"What you commanded us to do, let us at least be honest with each other, _my_ lord." She had an ironic but bittersweet smile on.

"One day you will understand. For now just do as I say." Yave nodded rapidly.

She bowed silently, ironically, looked for a second at the overly cried maiden a few feet away, Arwen, and then turned around.

Lord Elrond bid his farewell to the fellowship "May the blessings of elves, men and free folk go with you."

Everyone was smiling, some were crying, and some didn't care, and that would be Yave. She didn't care.

As they were leaving, Yave found the courage to stop and speak out. "Lord Elrond" People stopped in their tracks to listen. Hesitantly, the elf turned around to look at her. "Thank you for proving me a point. I have been told to never trust a ruler, a lord, for, you see, they only have their best interests in mind" she let a small pause settle in. "It seems my people were right." A reluctant bow and silence followed her words. But Yave felt at peace with her reluctance concerning the lords. She would never _ever_ trust one. She would not succumb to them, let alone care or listen to one.

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Now Yave felt more at home, in nature, climbing up and going down hills, passing under the branches of tall and slim old trees, letting the sun kiss her skin. She could run, dance and listen to the tongue of birds as they sang ballads and lullabies only for them to hear, the wind embracing her in an almost forgotten touch and the dust floating around the figures as a mist after a rainy day.

Why couldn't she feel the moist earth of the morning, why did she choose these boots to deny herself the pleasure of walking barefoot and remembering how that once felt?

She was in the front of the fellowship because she ran in the sunlight and let the wind, the dust, the flavor of flowers bit into her discovered skin. She stopped all of a sudden. She looked down at the newly crafted shoes and in an instant she lowered her hands to them and untied the laces, and then took the cloths out of her now free feet. She threw them away, into the bushes near the road. She felt the dust stick to her pale toes.

"Lady Yave, what are you doing?" she heard a hobbit's surprised question from somewhere far behind her. She turned her body a little to look at him. The fellowship saw her how they never had since they had left Rivendell: smiling.

The handsome man from before continued. "Your feet will get cold and the last thing we need would be to tend to an ill companion!" his voice was harsh, as a father grounding a child, but not mean enough to make her feel bad.

"Boromir is right, laddie." Gimli shouted. "The earth is harsh and your legs can easily get hurt!" But Yave didn't seem to care.

"Why do you all not do the same as me? It is beautiful to feel the ground and the grass, and the water with your bare feet." She turned around and twirled, and danced, and her hair floated behind her like a mane, around her in a fire's embrace. She was a wild _beast,_ hunting.

Yave heard hurried footsteps behind her and turned her head a little to watch. The two too similar hobbits ran after her and joined Yave in her momentary fun. She didn't feel alone anymore, she had the perfect company.

"That girl's energy will be the death of us." The man called Boromir affirmed well behind them. Their pace was pretty rushed, so it's imaginable at what a hurry the dance occurred. No bad intentions did Boromir have, but his seriousness and anger came from a frustration that only the one ring could satiate. Or so he thought.

Ahead of them, far away, was Legolas, but he was not having fun, he was not dancing, he was watching, guarding, making sure it was safe ahead. He did hear it all, for his sensitive ears traveled miles away from him. He could only chuckle.

They needed some sun into their soon to be shadowed adventure. It was only right for the most tormented of them all to shine and laugh. It was encouraging. Especially to her…

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The Fellowship walked for a very long time before finally deciding to stop for the day. The weather had been a most welcomed companion, for it had brought sun and warm wind into their journey. After many hours of constant travelling, they decided to night at the base of a hill and have a much awaited meal. Most of them were exhausted; even Yave which was most accustomed to walking long distances became a victim of exhaustion.

They were gathered on a valley just before a high hill. Sam put himself to work by starting a fire, but when the first flame came to life a startled sound escaped Yave's lips. Her brows furrowed in a scared look. She didn't intend it to be obvious, so in a moment her expression changed to a blank one. She stepped a few feet behind and away from the newly made fire where Yave stood for a long time, constantly watching the burning wood. In her throat she could feel the pulsation of her own heart, pumping nervously. Until sleep took her, her whole attention was focused on the growing flames.

What she didn't acknowledge was the stares Aragorn and Legolas were giving the whole situation. They saw her reaction, they saw how scared she was and how she backed away from the flame. And they could only wonder… _why?_

"Lads, I think we should keep watch during the night." The old dwarf said out of a sudden. Truth be said, everyone was almost falling asleep, especially Gimli.

"You _think_." Legolas started. Small chuckles tried to remain silent, everyone else just rolled their eyes. Gimli sat up from his place, dangerously approaching the elf.

"Gimli!" Aragorn's voice made the dwarf still in his movements. It was an involuntary command. Gimli sigh before sitting back down.

"Let the elf stay awake and keep guard" the moment he rested his head on the cold earth, he started snoring. Everyone followed him then to sleep.

Yave watched as Legolas shook his head again in annoyance before sitting up and walking a few feet away from their camp. His body was slender, but still looked powerful. She found herself unable to resist watching him. His steps couldn't be heard; he was as gracious as a bird and had no obvious imperfections whatsoever. Yave wondered how beings as the elves could exist amongst them. _How could they live in such an ugly world and enjoy it?_

When she couldn't see Legolas behind the trees anymore, she closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep.

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 _There were the screams… it was her mother, or her brother… she couldn't tell… people screamed the same before death, didn't they?_

 _And there was the light, making her close her eyes, and the heat, almost too hot for her… and the harsh touch of the flame, as whips biting into her skin. There was the sound of wood cracking and falling, the glass breaking. There was the smoke, flooding her lungs, made it impossible for her to breathe. And the screams… the screams continued…_

 _Her tears were vanished as soon as they built in the corners of her closed eyes._

 _The smell… the sound… the feeling… it was burning. They were burning._

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Yave woke up for the first time that night screaming. A small fire in the center of them all was still burning; she could hear the wood cracking and the smoke all around them. She felt its hotness and she realized she had been sweating. _This was her chance, she could still make it go away. She could stop it!_ She didn't wait anymore; she didn't pay any attention to what was happening around her. The fire was the all that mattered. Yave found herself jump to her feet and moved suddenly as close to the fire as she could. _"Stop!"_ she whispered to the flames. But they would not listen. _"Please, stop!"_ it was nothing more than a gentle plead, but once again, it was ignored.

Not waiting anymore, Yave jumped straight on it, trying to make it disappear, _go away_. She hit the wood away, tried to step on the burning flames and turn them to ash. She didn't acknowledge the tears rolling down her cheeks or the gasps surrounding her.

She didn't hear the shouts and the rustle of clothes. She didn't hear them tell her to stop. She didn't feel Aragorn's palm around her forearm, but felt when he pushed her away from it. She screamed again.

"Let me go!" the hobbits gathered the wood back into the extinguished pile. "No!" Aragorn held her against his chest, kept her in place. Everyone was shocked. Yave was crying. "It is too late now", she murmured, only for her to hear, but Aragorn did too for he was too close not to. And some feet away, Legolas heard her with his developed hearing.

Boromir approached them slowly, not wanting to scare her. But after seeing the fire gone, Yave started to calm down. Boromir kneeled in front of them and gently took one of her feet into his hand. The hems of the pants were burned and turned dark, up to her knees. But to his shock, that was all the damage done.

He was waiting to see bruises, red skin, blisters and cracked flesh. He expected to see burnt flesh to no salvation, but her skin was untouched. Her feet were fine and their base was just tainted by the ash, nothing more.

He couldn't even mutter the words, tell them not to worry. His eyes were wide in horror. Aragorn watched the change of emotions on his face and looked down to Yave's feet and saw the cause. She was fine, she was not hurt in anyway. He gasped.

"She is not hurt." Boromir said after some time to the expecting company.

"Nonsense! That is impossible!" Gimli said. "She stepped on the fire, she must be burnt!" he approached them and looked down. Indeed, she was not hurt. Gimli gasped out loud. "How can this be?"

They were all watching her cry, but nothing more; they couldn't understand.

"It seems our Melesse here has fire burning inside her." Gandalf said all-knowingly behind them. The fellowship looked at him. He sought her approval before continuing, but it didn't come. Yave was still very troubled.

"What do you mean, Gandalf?" one of the hobbits inquired.

Legolas turned to him. "Can it be certain?" he said.

"Could be any of other ones as well, but she is not hurt", the old wizard turned from the elf to Yave. "It would not perform _after_ but _before._ " Legolas nodded in understanding than turned to watch the young Melesse. He didn't want to believe it, and he wouldn't until proven.

"Sorry, but what are you even talking about?" one of the hobbits said. No one dared answer him.

Aragorn let Yave go gently when she stopped struggling and stepped back to give her space. She crumbled to the ground, her palms digging into the earth. She was still crying, but everyone was too scared to approach her now. Legolas made a step forward, but stopped. For a reason known only to him, he turned around and left.

Gandalf went ahead and let one of his knees fall to the ground. He lowered his head.

"We understand", he started, not completely sure every member of the fellowship did. He brought his hand to her chin and looked into her pained eyes. "We are here for you." He wrinkled his lips into a gentle smile. She tried to smile back and then brought her hands around his neck. Tears stopped leaving her eyes.

Soon after, she fell asleep again. But not for long.

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" _You can look now!" the girl laughed but quickly removed her slender palms from her eyes. In front of her was her easel with a new blank white cloth on top, ready to be painted. A small wooden box with jars each containing different colored plants and flowers set next to it._

 _It was a present._

" _Oh dear Eru!" The girl was beyond excited for her gift. She turned to face to ginger haired boy and she hugged the life out of him. When she pulled away, her eyes raised to his; he was tall, way taller, even though she herself was not a small girl. "Thank you, Stellan!" there was never anything more than that. The gratitude, the familiarity, the tenderness, the presents, the life lived together… was there anything more than that? Did she want anything more than that?_

 _No. She didn't._

" _It is my pleasure, Yave." He answered before bringing his palm up and cupping her right cheek. "Always my pleasure." His lips touched the smooth skin of her forehead, before embracing her back. And Yave was happy and complete. "You should look amongst the flowers, see if there is any color missing." She opened her eyes and stepped back from him. Clapping her hands in front of her she started looking through the jars, naming each plant and what color would result from it._

 _She was so excited! To turn them into colors, to use her horse hair brush and imprint her memories on it. She was thrilled!_

 _She turned around to thank him once more but the smile left her lips and shock filled her eyes. From the mountain peak that housed them, she looked straight ahead down in the valley. Stellan followed her gaze. Smoke floated far away over their village. A loud gasp escaped her lips as she started running._

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Yave woke up the next time with a thundering beating heart; her temperature was high compared to how she was normally. Her limbs were trembling and a hard ache formed in her chest, making it hard to breathe. She got accustomed to it during these last days. Since that night, she had been having constant nightmares.

Legolas was beside her, watching her, worry obvious in his eyes. Why was he still the one keeping watch, she wondered. Then over his shoulder, she saw Aragorn was on his feet walking around. The others were sleeping and no fire was burning next to them.

Legolas' left hand rested on the ground, while the other travelled all the way to her forehead.

"You dreamt of something ugly, little one", she let a sigh escape her, a breath she didn't know she was holding. "It is alright now", he calmly stated, but it didn't stop the flow of tears that escaped her scarlet eyes.

Yave started sobbing, painfully and uncomfortably, remembering her brother's happy freckled face, remembering the colors, and how much of an effort he must have put into collecting the right plants and putting them into jars. _He must have paid attention to when I was turning them into colors._

Realizing that she wasn't about to sleep anytime soon, Legolas sat up and extended a hand that he expected her to take. When she did, warm skin touched icy cold one; he walked her somewhere more far away from the camp, a couple of feet away, into the nearby forest, so she could cry in peace.

"Would it help you to talk about what you have dreamt, child?" He was addressing her as if she were a child. She was wallowing in self-pity and she hated it. She solely shook her head, the sobbing continuing. "Perhaps you should cry then, let it all out." He caressed the crimson and tangled hair on top of her head, and then let his fingers meet her chin and pushed it up. "This is how I met you. Strong and confident." His truthful smirk embraced her heart in a comforting closeness.

A shy smile escaped her thin pink lips, but she cried for what seemed like hours. Reluctant, she extended her trembling arms forward. Pale fingers touched the green cloth covering his shoulders, before finding their way to the back of his neck. There, they tangled with his white and soft hair. The smell of lavender and musk filled her nostrils, as the shedding tears rolled down her cheeks.

Memories she had tried to forget flooded her mind in a freezing cold darkness. Glimpses of dead bodies blurred her vision with another set of tears. And the blood spilled like dirty water on the dusty path, on the wooden walls, on the grey stoned, the fallen bodies, and the laughter… there were all so alive in her mind, as if it all had just happened.

And mangled with tears were soft whispers… _"Forgive me, please…"_ but Legolas couldn't know for sure if it was an apology meant for him or for her long lost people. He did however listen to it and softly would raise his palm to stroke her back. She was but a child, young and clueless to the outside world. She was supposed to see the world, travel and dance under the rain. Yave should laugh and show the people her beautiful smile. The pain she suffered would be too much to endure even for his people, let alone a young girl. Legolas found himself pitying her.

He brought her closer to his body and let the warmth of hers wrap around him. He didn't try to talk, he only caressed the top of her head, as she cried herself to sleep, her head on his shoulder, soaking his shirt with salty tears.

She didn't know when he moved her to the camp, how his right arm found its way beneath her knees and carried her to her own brown sheets near the fire. He placed her gently on the harsh earth, looked down at her for a mere moment before covering her body. One last look he had given to the burnt pants before her body disappeared beneath the blanket. Then Legolas went to his place opposite to hers. He watched the sky afterwards, counted the stars and thought for a long time. Moments later, he heard footsteps coming from the bunch of trees to the left. He was not startled though, he knew who was coming.

"Mellon nin", Aragorn greeted, a soft nod followed his words. Legolas responded in a similar manner. "You should have woken someone up" he continued sitting beside him.

"I needed not do it."

"You kept guard all night long."

"I do not mind it. Exhaustion cannot command elves as it does others" he glanced curtly to Gimli, who still snored comfortably enveloped in his sheets. The future King could only chuckle in response.

"You were lucky enough to be born with the right blood flowing through your veins" Legolas only nodded at the comment, without further reply. It was not odd of him to be so blunt. Since meeting him years prior, Aragorn noticed his friends' composed self, always short of answers, but never rude, no matter how cold he might seem at times. "It is good that Yave finds comfort with you."

"I was merely present when needed. Have it been you the one awoken, she might have found her comfort with _you_."

"No, she wouldn't have." Legolas stole a glance in his direction, before sighing. "You know it to be true, friend. Her hatred will only grow greater."

"Before Yave met you she had lost everything" the elf said suddenly. "Now she is losing her free will as well. I believe her hatred to be understandable."

"You know about what is required of us" it was not a question, but a fact. Legolas nodded.

"Lord Elrond held council with the other Elvenkings before deciding. My father happens to be a king."

"Of course" said Aragorn. "Does Yave know that?", when Legolas shook his head Aragorn moved closer to him and whispered in an amused tone. "Do not tell her, then" Legolas looked towards the sleeping form of the girl in question. Aragorn could tell his old friend didn't look amused at all, but rather troubled.

Legolas knew he shouldn't hide who he was. Legolas Greenleaf, son of the Elvenking Thranduil, prince of Mirkood and heir to the throne of the Woodland Realm. He took one more look at the Melesse girl and sighed.

At dawn they met the burning sky, when he and Aragorn woke the others up.

.

.

.

.

.

They walked for days to no end, climbing up mountains, walking and walking. Yave didn't mind, she loved it, loved the water, the wind, the sun, the grass… For her, in time it became easier to watch the flames burn during breaks and meals. She would no longer jump at the sight of it, or run from it, or even worse, try to stop it. She would just sit next to it for moments and stare into the flames. Her companions stopped asking what the problem was, they grew used to it.

Now Yave knew the names of them all.

Sam would prepare the meal for the day. The two small hobbits, Merry and Pippin were training in sword fighting with Boromir and sometimes Aragorn would take part in it. Frodo would sometimes watch over Sam and take bites of food while it was getting ready. Legolas and Gimli were never around, except when the meal was served. Legolas was mostly searching the sky and the surroundings with his long-distance sight. Gimli would tell stories around or getting his axe ready for fights that didn't come. Gandalf could always be found sitting and smoking his pipe. And Yave? Yave would sit for hours and look into the flames, not speaking, not eating many times. Just watching…

Most of the Fellowship wondered where she was truly. Back with her family, re-living happy memories, or on that accursed land, amongst rotten corpses? They couldn't know for she was not telling anyone. Not even Legolas.

On one of their breaks, they were sitting on the rocky side of a mountain, trying to pass it. Sam made a fire and took his place at the pan, while Yave took her place on the other side, staring into the flames. She thought of many things, mostly about things that she regretted, things she would die for, now.

And she stayed silent.

She broke free from her trance when she heard Aragorn scream "Hide!", and saw Sam as he ran immediately to pour water onto the fire.

Yave looked up from the fire to see everyone running around, some of them finding place under stones, some in the bushes around. But she didn't understand what they were hiding from, so as she sat up, Yave turned around. To her right, faraway in the horizon, a smoke cloud travelled fast towards them.

 _But how_ … it was… against the wind… she could have known, had she paid attention.

A hand grasped her forearm almost brutally. Yave found herself under a rock with Boromir. He looked at her angrily before placing a rough palm on top of her lips, in an attempt to keep her silent. They both looked out there as the cloud turned to be small black birds.

Birds that flew all around the place, looking around, _searching_ and turning a couple of times before flying the direction they came from. So they were actually some kind of spies? Were they sent by the dark lord? Yave sighed beneath Boromirs' hand. She could have known. She _needed_ to know…

Moments after when they were certain no evil could come to them, the Fellowship finally got out from hiding.

When Yave was finally up, Boromir pushed her shoulder with his hand. "Pay attention!" he snarled at her. His eyes filled with anger. Her brows furrowed fully aware of the truth of his words. "You not paying attention could be the death of us!" he shouted. She knew he was not a bad man, she knew he was right.

"It was only for a moment" she tried justify herself, but knew deep down that it was not an excuse.

"That moment could have been all we had!" She sighed and nodded in understanding. It pained her to admit that he was not wrong.

"Boromir" Aragorn approached. "She could not have known. Now she will know."

She felt ashamed, so she spoke up. "Do not, Aragorn" she turned to Boromir and bowed her head in respect. It was intended as an apology. "Forgive me, my lord. You are right, of course" her voice was a mere murmur, almost unnoticeable. But it hid truth behind.

His hand found the top of her head and tangled the hair there. When she tried to free herself from his gransp, his hand travelled all the length of one thick crimson strand and touched it delicately. "That was your punishment."

And he smiled… it was a smile that made Yave surely blush, because for the first time, she felt her cheeks on fire.


End file.
